Unforgiven
by Yautjan
Summary: All I wanted was to tell him congratulations. I didn't know that a simple meeting could turn out so horribly—enough that I could wish for death's cold embrace. –Yaoi one-sided Roy/Ike some Marth/Ike, M for language and rape and gore and character death-
1. Chapter 1

**I've…never written a yaoi fanfic before…let alone anything remotely sexual…so forgive me if it sucks. I have writers block and I need to unblock it by getting this out of my system.**

**Also, it's told from Roy's POV.**

**It's not my fault I'm cruel to the people I love.**

…**Okay, maybe it is.**

**Melee/Brawl © Nintendo**

I never had been the most popular Smasher in the mansion.

People had been annoyed by the fact I wasn't the most talented fighter, or by the fact I had a similar fighting style to my friend's, Marth. That had only been coincidence. We're not even from the same continent. Either way, though, it made me the target of jokes and pranks, and my eventual discharge.

I was only bitter about it for the first few months or so, until I heard news of who they had hired as my replacement. I know most of the Smashers would have been seething with fury, but I like to think of myself as a little more on the intelligent side of the spectrum, compared to the others. I was vastly impressed by this new swordsman. He bested me in everything, except maybe defense and speed. But that was irrelevant, I decided quickly after watching him destroy the others in a set of matches.

After I was let go from the Smash Brothers organization, I told my family back home I was going to stay for a while, maybe a few years, to improve my technique by watching how the newcomers and veterans fought alike. I _did_ want to try and rejoin the roster the next time there were sign ups.

It was one of those days, when I had been practicing the rapid-fire sword slashes of the youthful swordsman they had replaced Young Link with that a messenger came to my apartment door, knocking and requesting my presence.

I quickly pulled my undershirt back on. No one needed to tell me it was impolite to appear before a visitor half-naked, even if I had more muscle tone than the average body builder. I didn't really think of myself as an unattractive person. My shirts had become tight as I became more toned and more mature—I was only seventeen, after all, and it had been two years since my discharge. My hair had grown past my shoulders, to the point where I would need to pull it back to keep it out of my face. Some of the young woman that worked at the diner I was employed at thought it was better this way, so I refrained from trimming it. I kept myself clean, I didn't drink or smoke or do drugs, I visited a dentist every two months (I couldn't wait to see the look on my father's face when he sees how perfect those braces I wore last year have made my teeth), and I took care to make sure I had no plans on a certain day before practicing with my blade.

In all, I thought my life to be rather simple but wonderful, which was why I was surprised when the messenger at the door held out an invitation addressed to me, from the mansion.

He was silent as I opened it, reading over the generic note. "A…reunion? For all the Smashers?" I glanced up, but he simply shrugged and walked away. I wasn't sure what it meant, so I shut the door and returned to my living room, sitting down on the couch and re-reading what was written.

_Dear who this may concern,_

_In celebration of the one year anniversary of the newest roster of fighters, I, Master Hand, have decided to invite all the former members of the Super Smash Brothers Organization to a reunion on Saturday, the twenty eighth of March, to meet with friends old and reminisce the days long gone._

_Do not forget, this is not an invitation for your return to the mansion, if you are a former Smasher who is not in the current roster. Please send a reply via phone by Friday, the twenty-seventh, so we may have enough supplies for everyone._

_With regards,_

_Master Hand._

Meet with friends old? Though I wasn't a very popular person within the halls of the organization, I did have a couple of friends who I knew would be glad to see me. And I really did want to meet the man who replaced me, Ike, in person, and give him my congratulations on his fantastic performances.

I quickly rushed to the phone, dialing the number imprinted on the back of the card. It rang twice, before some office assistant I had never met picked up. "Hello, you've reached the desk of Master Hand's secretary. Is this concerning the reunion this weekend?"

"Yes," I replied, masking my excitement beneath a cool, collected tone. "I received an invitation, and I am calling to say I'm going to be coming."

"Name?" came the bored reply.

I hesitated only the slightest. Would the person be one of those who thought me a crude excuse for a fighter and had ridiculed me without cease? There was no helping it if it was. "Roy," I said.

"Ah, yes. Alright. We'll be seeing you on Saturday." I opened my mouth to speak again, but the secretary hung up on me. I recovered from this surprise act of rudeness quickly, and set the phone back in its cradle.

A reunion, and it was only three days away! There was no point in trying to hide my joy. So I punched a hole right through the wall splitting my living room from the kitchen in a moment of pure immature glee.

Of course, I paid when the action broke my ring finger.

_nex_

Saturday came all too soon. I drove to the mansion—it was too far of a walk for anything else. My finger was in a splint, but it didn't really hurt too much, unless someone tried to grab it. I had chosen to wore something more casual than what I had normally garbed in when I had been a Smasher—an old pair of cream slacks, cheap loafers (no one said I was getting any money from my father), an old red shirt and a blue jacket, trimmed with gold, similar to the tunic that was hanging in my closet. For once, I wasn't wearing my circlet that I was so well known for; I had simply settled to pull what hair I could into a loose ponytail, though my bangs were not yet long enough to join the rest of the flame-colored locks.

I pulled into the private parking spots beneath the mansion, using my old Smashers ID to gain access. Normally, I wasn't registered, but today it was clear my number had been reprogrammed into the system. I parked my car into one of the visitor spots and hurriedly made my way back upstairs, into the mansion proper.

It was even more spectacular than I remembered. Reds and purples and browns flooded my vision, giving the same rich, warm environment I had known so well, the same one that had been my home during the years I had spent in the mansion (people didn't age while they lived there. If all was to be said, I was actually in my mid-twenties). The furniture was as nice as ever, restored by the unseen forces that kept the place in order.

I didn't need to be told where the reunion would be taking place. I traversed the halls, taking my time to feel the nostalgia from times gone by. How I missed this place, despite my general dislike among the others. My resolve to return to the next roster only rose as I approached the central meeting rooms. If my suspicions where correct, they would have taken down the walls separating the rooms, making one big enough to house the thirty plus people that would be there. My feet walked of their own accord, my mind drifting off to sweet memories.

Only five minutes had passed before I reached my destination. I had been slightly late—the room was already filled with familiar faces, both from media and from personal experience.

The ones I had known from my time in the mansion didn't look a day older than I remembered them, and the same went for the newcomers. I couldn't help but wonder if they would recognize me—I had grown older, after all, though, regrettably, not taller. I dismissed the thought. The second they saw me, the five-foot-three, red-head boy, they would know who I was.

This was why I barely got four steps into the room before I got tackled. "ROY!" someone screamed in my face. I cried out in a mixture of surprise and laughter as I recognized the man who had hugged me so tightly my feet were dangling off the ground.

"Hi there, Captain Falcon," I said, trying to not sound as breathless as I was. The man was insanely strong. "It's great to see you again, now, can you put me down?" He dropped me, but quickly grabbed me back in a chokehold, ruffling my already messy hair.

"I'm glad you came, kid!" he boomed, smiling even wider than I was. "Some o' us were worried you'd ditch on this!" I managed to pull free of his crushing grip, reaching up to fix my ponytail.

"I wouldn't have missed it," I beamed, forcing myself to ignore the less than pleased glares I was getting from some of the other veterans. I didn't need to be reminded of the fact I wasn't the most famous man in the roster. I couldn't help but scour for my other friends, though.

Link was the first I spotted. He was in a conversation with Zelda, but he did pause to glance over the woman's shoulder and wave with a smile. I waved back, resolving to get in a couple of words with the blond Hylian before the day was over. Next I met the twin gazes of Nana and Popo. They were sitting with Chibi, the name I had heard many call the youthful man who had been Young Link's replacement. I was greeted with double cries of "Hey Roy!" and a pair of waving hands that was wild enough to smack Chibi in the face.

That only left one person. Captain Falcon already seemed to know, and he grasped my shoulders, leaning over to speak into my ear. "Just so ya know, kid," he said, "Remember how Marth admitted to being gay a couple o' years ago, when he tried to ask you out?" I nodded. How could I forget? "Well, he an' Ike are hooked up, now. Ike's a vicious fighter, so be careful 'round him, a'ight? He can be…overprotective."

So, my idol was also a homosexual. I wasn't too surprised—I had been shocked by Marth's admission, but I had quickly found that gay people weren't any different than normal. I, personally, was straight, but that hadn't stopped me and Marth from being friends until the day I received my pink slip. "Alright, thanks for the warning, Captain," I said. He slapped me on the back and walked off, to go and annoy the man I knew to be Snake.

I finally found the face I was searching for. Marth was sitting in a corner of the room, speaking with the much larger blue-haired man that could only be Ike, leaning against his massive shoulder and his hand entwined with the other male's. I made a beeline for the couple, skirting past some of the Pokémon and Wario.

Marth glanced up from his conversation, meeting my gaze. In a split second, his small, timid smile grew to one of great joy. "Roy!" He stood, untangling himself from Ike to run forward and embrace me in a tight hug. "Roy, you midget, I was worried you'd not come at all!"

"Me?" I replied, hugging my old friend back, "Miss a chance to see you all again? Did someone cave your brains in? Of course I would come! I'm here now, aren't I?" I got a playful punch in the shoulder in reply.

The blue-haired Prince grinned stupidly down at me, almost as if in awe that I was here. I couldn't help but feel the same way—it was a lonely life without a close friend to talk to. "Oh, Roy!" He stepped back next to me. "This is Ike. I was so surprised when I found out he was a homosexual as well! Ike, this is Roy. He's my old friend, the one I was telling you about."

Ike gave me a surprisingly hostile glare that made my smile dim slightly. He stood up from his chair, peering down to observe me. I really did feel like a midget, now that I was in the presence of the tall man. "Hello…Roy…"

"Hello, Ike," I said, still managing to remain a cheery demeanor despite the coldness with which he watched me. "It's an honor to meet the man who took my place in this mansion." I extended my hand to shake, but he didn't move a muscle in response. Slightly surprised and embarrassed, I lowered my arm, curling my fingers into a light fist.

"Be nice, Ike," Marth reprimanded softly. "Roy's just a friend, alright? Now, I'm going to go get some punch. Do you want anything, either of you?"

"A glass would be wonderful," I replied.

"Nothing for me," said Ike distantly, still glaring at me.

"Alright," Marth said with a smile, before walking towards the buffet table. I watched him curiously, then smirked as he bumped into Peach, and wound up striking a conversation with the young Princess.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, without warning, and I glanced back over to see Ike had grasped my arm, scowling. "You're just a friend, right?" he demanded quietly.

I blinked at the hostility. "…Yes," I said. "I've known Marth since the second roster call." This was the perfect opportunity to say what I wanted to say to the man. "By the way, I've been wanting to congratulate you."

"For what?"

If anything, his gaze only became harder. I swallowed, trying to maintain my smile. The man was intimidating like no other person could imagine. "I was the person that was replaced by you. I've been watching your swordsman skills, and I have to say, I'm impressed beyond words. It's only good to the reputation of the Smashers that you took my place. You're the better fighter in every way." I couldn't help but let a challenge slip into my tone. "Of course, the next time they make a roster call, I'm going to try and return, so be prepared!"

The blue-haired man might have said something in reply—I wasn't really sure if I wanted to hear it, from the way his brow furrowed—but Marth came to the rescue then, handing me my drink. "There you go, Roy," he said warmly. "It's so great to see you again. I'm sure the others will be just as pleased!"

"I hope so," I responded, stepping back and out of Ike's grasp. The man regarded me for another moment, before turning away, bowing his head slightly.

"…I'm not feeling very well," Ike muttered. "Marth, I'm going to go rest for a little bit."

The Prince frowned with concern. "Are you going to return?" he asked.

"Not if I don't get better," he replied. He ducked in, to kiss Marth on the forehead. "See you later." And then he was gone, whisking out of the room in a flutter of his red cape.

I watched the door for a second, wondering if I had said something to upset him. He was more distant than I had thought he would be. He always looked so confident on the battlefield. "Ah," Marth said. "He's a chore to be around sometimes, but he's still a good person, at heart. He's so kind…" He glanced at me. "Well, missing one evening with him won't kill me. Please, Roy, tell me about how you've been!"

_nex_

It was after midnight that Master Hand finally asked the visitors to leave. I said my good-byes to Link and Captain Falcon. Nana and Popo had already gone to bed, so I had missed them. I wasn't upset, though, considering I had already had a chance to speak with the twins. The last person to see me out was Marth.

"I'm sorry Ike was so rude," he said while giving me a firm hug farewell. "He's normally not such a jerk, I promise. I'm going to bet he went to the hospital ward, because he didn't come back… But that's alright." He stepped back, smiling at me. "Roy, it was so wonderful to see you again."

"Same here," I replied. "At least, now we don't have to fall out of contact for so long again," I added, patting my pocket, where the piece of paper Marth's e-mail address had been scribbled onto resided. "I'll talk to you the next chance I get, I promise."

"Of course! See you later, Roy!" One last firm handshake-bear hug combination, and Marth went off to say goodbye to Mewtwo. I turned and made my way back to the underground parking structure, twirling my keys around my finger.

I would be back, I promised myself as the hallways quickly emptied out, so I was walking alone. I would come back and gain a position in this mansion. I wanted to be a Smasher again, and the night had only increased my resolve to return.

In the thrill of the moment, of reminiscing seeing old friends once again, I did not notice the hard object that swung at my head until it connected with the back of my skull, sending me tumbling forward, instantly unconscious.

_nex_

My head swam horribly by the time I came to. Everything was dark, like the blackness of unconsciousness still floated across my eyelids. It hurt to open my eyes, to try and see where I was, or what was happening.

The first thing that reached my awareness was that my arms had been pulled above my head. Cold steel bit into my wrists, pinning them roughly together. I could feel welts already from the friction, and warm, sticky liquid oozed down my arms, staining my jacket sleeves. I was tied up, I realized, finding the energy to open my eyes. The next thing I discovered was that my wrists were tied by a chain to the headboard of a bed.

My heart skipped in its rhythm. Why was I bound so roughly to a bed frame? Let alone, why had someone kidnapped me in the first place? That was the only explanation I could think of how I got there, but it didn't answer those questions. The person had even taken my shoes off.

I forced the rising panic down and took a good look at my surroundings. I was in a small room, perhaps a storage room. The bed had been hastily assembled, from the way it was set in the room. To one side was a small table, on top of which a miniature duffel bag rested. The edges were stained a dark red, almost like… like someone had grabbed the bag while their hands were bloody. A single light dangled from the ceiling, like a harsh, artificial sun that burned my retinas. There was only one exit from the room, a thick steel door that was clearly locked.

"Fuck…" I whispered, tugging at the chain binding my hands to the thick wood. It stung bitterly, but I was too frightened to really notice. "What… What is going on?" I asked to no one in particular. My head throbbed like it had been hit by a train. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe this was a dream and I was only imagining the pain, the ache, the terror… I was going to wake up in a minute, and I would be in my _own_ bed, curled tightly under the warm covers and at risk of a spider bite at absolute worst.

But the more time that passed, the more that theory seemed to be only that—a theory. That what was happening was real. That someone had really knocked me out, taken me to god-knew-where, and left me like this. Was someone going to try and starve me to death? Let me rot until I died of dehydration? Or worse?

No. If that was the case, they wouldn't have tied me to a fucking bed. It was worse. I wasn't really sure how worse 'worse' was going to be, but deep down I knew the night had just gone to the most vile hell I could think of.

The sudden rattling of a doorknob startled me, and I squeaked in horror. The single door swung open, and a figure, cloaked in black, hood pulled over their face, slipped inside. They turned, closing and locking the slab of steel behind them. The echoing boom of the tumblers sliding into place as the person turned the key sounded like God sealing my fate.

"Who are you?" I demanded hoarsely, trying to not sound nearly as terrified as I felt. The person glanced at me wordlessly, like they were observing me. Like I was some sort of inanimate object. "Answer me!"

"I'm surprised you woke so fast," the man rumbled. My blood ran absolutely cold as I recognized the unforgiving tone. "Well, that's not to your advantage, I suppose." He discarded the black cloak, revealing his tall, massive form, his stony blue eyes boring holes through me.

"I-Ike?" I gasped in horror. "What…what is this? What is going on? Why am I—… God dammit, what do you want?" I shrieked as he stepped forward, to the bedside. I inched as far away from him as possible, fear pounding through every inch of my frame.

He rested a hand on the edge of the mattress, leaning forward so he could peer directly down at my face. I wanted to look away, to not meet his eyes, but that stony gaze transfixed me, filling me with such horrible dread that breaking away would never become possible. "You said you were Roy, am I right?" he asked quietly. Unable to find my voice, I nodded meekly. "Of course I'm right. No one would be able to mistake someone else for you."

I tried to regain my voice, to try and ask again what was going on. Something eventually reached my throat, and I managed to speak. "What do you…want, you bastard?"

His hand moved so fast, I had no time to prepare for the vicious backhand the man dealt me. My jaw gaped in a silent yelp, the breath startled from my lungs. Before I even knew what had happened, I felt a sudden weight on my person. Forcing air back into my chest and the stinging to the back of my mind, I glanced back up to see Ike had leapt on top of me, straddling my hips and resting his hands on my abdomen. "What do _I_ want?" he echoed. Then, at last, the cold, emotionless demeanor broke as he grinned savagely. "I want _you_."

"M-me?" I squeaked, still trying to figure out what was going on. "What…what do you want with…m-me?" I struggled weakly beneath him, trying to pull my legs free of his crushing weight. "I…I don't have anything you'd want!"

"Oh, is that it?" Ike leaned forward, so he was resting his crossed arms on my chest, his face only inches from my own. I swallowed roughly, praying that it was only joke, that the blue-haired man was only playing a cruel, sick prank on me. "You, Roy, are an utter fool." He reached forward—I flinched away, but he managed to catch the side of my face in his grasp, holding it in place. "How old are you?"

How old was I? What a weird question. One that did not seem appropriate at this time. I didn't answer, deciding to test and see if retaining my right to remain silent would help. His face contorted in anger as he realized that, and he grabbed my ear, crushing the cartilage painfully in his fist. "I asked, how old are you?" he snapped.

"S-seventeen," I whimpered, pressing my eyes shut to try and avoid looking at the man. The grip slackened on my ear, but I didn't relax the least. "I'm…seventeen…"

He didn't say anything in response for a long moment, instead raising his hand to run his thick fingers through my hair, like I was some sort of pet. I focused on regulating my breathing, desperately doing what I could to ignore the tender touch. "Seventeen isn't bad at all," he muttered. "You look…younger…" His hand returned to my cheek, his thumb running across my upper lip. "…Tell me, _Roy_, have you ever kissed anyone?"

If the age question had been weird, this surpassed it. Had I ever _kissed_ anyone? Of course not. I had spent the early years of my life being in Elibe, in my home, learning how to write and fight and be the best, most perfect person I could be. Then I spent so much time as a Smasher… And my recent life had been too focused on myself to really think about dating.

My personal thoughts were clearly taking too long for Ike, as he tightened his grip on my cheekbone. "Answer me, _now_," he growled. "Or I'll break your fucking little face."

"N-no!" I cried weakly. "I've…never dated…anyone…anything…" I shuddered instinctually as his hand trailed down my chin, past my neck and to my jacket hem. He fingered the fabric for a brief moment, frowning as he glanced at my arms, still bound tightly above my head. Silently, he reached over to the duffel bag with his free hand, digging through it until he retrieved a small knife. "W-what are you doing?" I asked desperately.

Without the slightest warning, he lunged forward. I cried out in horror, expecting to feel the bite of the blade entering my shoulder. Instead, I felt the fabric of my jacket and shirt being torn at, the sleeves shredded by the knife. It wasn't until he managed to pull the jacket off my body and began to work at my shirt that I realized he was trying to undress me. "S-stop!" I squealed. "Please!"

He didn't stop, though, not until he'd finished tearing my shirt down the front so he could cast it aside, revealing my bare chest. The sudden blast of cold air made me shiver, though it was more from pure fear. I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt him shift above me, undoing his own armor and tunic. In less than a minute, he was shirtless as well, the skin of his stomach brushing my own uncomfortably.

"Marth is such a coward," Ike murmured, taking my face in his hands again and forcing me to meet his eyes. "We've been together for five whole months, and he's still refusing the whole point of a relationship—the sex, you know? He talks about this whole 'get to know my partner better' shit and sometimes refuses to even sleep in the same room as me." He laughed, once, bitterly, before leaning over again, burying his forehead into the crook between my neck and collarbone. His breath felt hot against my skin, and smelled of alcohol. His left hand left my cheek, his fingers brushing lightly down my front, tracing the defined lines of my stomach. "He's a pretty boy, enough so that I'd want to do him a couple times of the week, when he's not being such a whiney bitch." He sat back up, peering down at me lustfully. I'd never seen a more disgusting expression on a person.

"You, on the other hand…" Both his hands slid to the spaces below my ribcage, almost marveling at the fact I kept myself so remarkably clean-shaven. Or, so I hoped. Actually, I was hoping he was realizing what he was really doing, but the expression on his face only grew more greedy, more wanting. "I have never in my life seen a more beautiful person. It's amazing you're still a virgin, at this age… By now, someone like you should be absolutely wrecked." Oh, thanks? I thought, my breath rate once again increasing. "But no… Luck would have it that the most perfect body I've ever seen is completely untainted! A gemstone among rocks… A gemstone of every color, but overall rimmed by a red wreath of beauty… The most beautiful jewel to ever exist on this earth… Even something like that must be destroyed, no? If you don't do it yourself, you'll miss the opportunity. And then you'll never get to find out if this perfect crystal is just as wonderful when its first shattered."

I felt his hands slide down farther, pausing when they reached my hips. I whimpered weakly, trying to no avail to escape his grasp as he hooked his fingers around the waistband of my slacks. "I found myself the perfect gemstone, now I must do my duty and break this perfection!"

He released his grip on my pants, instead shifting to his own. I screwed my eyes shut in utter horror as he stripped the rest of his clothing off. I was far from spared, I realized soon enough, as he snatched at my hips again, tearing at the fabric protecting my legs. I could do nothing but yelp in disgust and fright. I'd never been naked around anyone before, not since I had been a baby in diapers, let alone see someone just as bare. Now both were happening against my will.

I squirmed beneath him, as I felt him press against my smaller body. His erection throbbed against me painfully, in a pain that really nullified the ache in my arms and wrists and cheek. It felt truly invasive, truly like I was nothing more than a pawn in some psycho's freak fantasies. And I was. Tied to a bed in a room I'd never seen before, likely far from civilization, wearing nothing, at this man's complete mercy… I could do absolutely nothing.

Now that there was no more fabric in the way of his hands, they roamed a lot more freely, the nails digging into my flesh until it tore and bled. His mouth wandered across the new wounds, lapping up the blood like it was some tasty drink, his teeth digging into skin where he didn't corrupt it with his fingers. I bit back my yells of pain, my lip quavering as I simpered, praying it would just end. That some divine light would strike one of us down. Preferably me. It wasn't like I could escape, even if I wasn't pinned down and being groped. Then he would never get the satisfaction of stealing my virginity, my innocence, and he could only be mad at himself.

But then… He might take it out on Marth. I froze, fear flooding my chest. My best friend… If I died, if I pushed Ike to murder me, then he would only be even more pissed off. And if I was dead… Marth would be almost guaranteed to reap the penalty. He'd hurt the man that loved him, an innocent person who had nothing to do with this.

I didn't want to suffer. Not in the least. Maybe it would be better if Ike died. But there was no way to kill him… He was in control. The only thing I could do was take it, and pray I would come out alive, and Marth would never have to be hurt by it. Never know his significant other attacked his friend.

Ike shifted on top of me, moving to sit on my chest. I gasped as his sheer weight crushed my ribcage, doing my best to ignore everything. His hand grabbed my jaw, jerking my head forward painfully. "Suck it, you little slut," he ordered. "And if I feel teeth, I will pull each and every one of them out with my bare hands."

I didn't really have a choice. Hesitantly, unwillingly, I complied, though he more forced himself into my mouth than anything. I choked on the hard shaft of flesh, resisting the insanely strong urge to bite down, cause him the same pain physically he was doing to me mentally… My thoughts were cut off as he thrust in, and again, and again. I curled my fingers around the chain binding my wrists, doing everything I possibly could to distract my mind from the horrors I was experiencing. I could barely breath, let alone shout in terror and pain, as much as I wanted to.

He moaned in pleasure as I tried to pull away, to get even one tiny gasp of air. He didn't let me, though, pushing my head against the excuses for pillows that lay on the mattress. I let out a muffled shriek, thrashing around as best I could, doing everything to escape and breath. I couldn't die. If I died because of something as stupid as oral sex… It was tempting, to succumb and perish, but I wouldn't let myself. I couldn't let myself.

The message finally seemed to get to him that I needed air to survive, as his constant pounding relented slightly. I took advantage of it, inhaling as much air as I possibly could in the brief reprieve. My lungs were not nearly filled, but he decided I'd been given enough time, and picked his pace back up. I wanted to do something, anything, to show my disgust, though his body absolutely crushed my entire frame in, restricting my breathing and movement. I wanted it to end… It tasted absolutely horrible, felt absolutely horrible…

The blue-haired man groaned in relief as he came, finally letting up on his rhythm, but not actually pulling away until I was forced to swallow the bitter liquid or choke and die on it. My stomach churned in horror, threatening to rebuke, but I fought the urge down. It would only make things worse, destroy my chances of even surviving the night…

He shifted so he was laying completely on top of me again, his face centimeters from my own. I tried to look away, tried to hide the tears that were welling up in my eyes, but he grabbed my chin roughly, forcing my head back to face his. "So beautiful," he murmured, wiping the ooze and saliva off my chin with his thumb. "And you were never captured and sold as some sort of pleasure slave… You make a good little whore."

"P-please, Ike," I begged hoarsely, barely able to speak. "S-stop this… I…please…I b-beg of you…" I would have said more, but he pressed his mouth to mine roughly, silencing my voice again. There was absolutely no passion in the kiss, only forcefulness and greed. I didn't really know how I could know, but… I had always imagined it to be so much _nicer_. It felt like he was suffocating me. I was pretty sure he would hold true the same threat with my teeth, so I once again resisted the urge to bite down as his tongue invaded, exploring every inch it could reach. I reeled with horror, barely able to keep myself from losing my last meal. His hands were wandering again, pausing over my highly un-aroused crotch, almost as if it was a surprise I wasn't enjoying anything he was doing.

He pulled away, sitting up, so he was sitting on my hips, his knees on either side of my body. "Little bitches shouldn't be so uninterested in my pleasures," he snarled, grasping my member in his crushing grip. I gasped in pain, truly starting to feel the tears roll down my cheeks. "You'll regret keeping yourself so perfect," he promised. As if I wasn't already.

I can't remember for sure what happened next. One second, he was sitting on me, and then the next, he was nothing more than a flurry of motion, laying himself flat and shifting his hands beneath me. I had steeled myself already for what I knew was coming, but the utterly searing pain that I had been dreading since I had realized he was nothing more than a rapist made everything else feel insignificant. The yells I had been restraining finally broke, and I screamed absolute bloody murder, begging between gasps for air and the agonizing thrusts that he stop.

Every second that passed I pleaded harder, and every word that escaped my lips only made it worse. I couldn't find the resolve to simply lay there and take it, not anymore. Not even the thoughts of what would happen to Marth if Ike didn't get his complete fill of my own body could distract me. I just wanted it to all stop, to end… I waited for some sort of blessing, for my body to fail me, for death. But I was unable to even pass out, let alone find the sweet nothingness of eternal slumber.

His lips descended on my own again, muffling my shrieks of pure, unbridled terror. I was considering holding my breath, until I died, but it was too hard to concentrate enough to manage even that. My mind was blank, my muscles tense with pain, my lungs still wasting air on screams, my eyes shut as tightly as I could manage, unable to even look my former idol in the face.

"Keep screaming," he husked, trailing his bottom lip across my cheeks, drinking in my tears. His fingers dug into the small of my back painfully, feeling each individual bump of my spine. I had been reduced to mere whimpers, choking out a small cry every time he thrust himself in. "Come on, you whore, _scream_!"

Another long, agonized shout escaped from my chest involuntarily, one that he instantly smothered. I jerked at the chain binding my wrists, praying for some miracle, that the metal would break and I could lower my arms. The strain in my shoulders was becoming intensely painful, though it couldn't match the flaming ache in my backside.

He came a second time, moaning with ecstasy while I whined with pain and terror. His harsh rhythm subsided, his pants loud in my ear. "Heh… You're such a slut," he laughed breathlessly, pulling himself free of my body at last. "But you're so beautiful in pain. I've definitely got enough energy for another go around, what do you think?" He grinned at me, and I downright panicked.

I thrashed about with renewed vigor, digging my legs into the mattress to try and find a grip. It hurt to move—it felt like I had been burned to a crisp, then frozen, then shattered and reassembled. Ike seemed to enjoy my struggle, as he did nothing but watch me greedily as I flailed. "Please!" I wailed. "Let me go! L-Let me go! Please, don't do this! Please!"

I felt his hand slide down to my thigh, pinching the tender flesh painfully. "Oh, I'll do what I want," he sneered. "You're just an object for my enjoyment!" He grasped my legs, hoisting them over his own body, his hands clutching my hips again and his mouth tearing at my shoulders and chest. I struggled helplessly, begging with every breath he come to his senses, that he let me alone. It was what he wanted, I knew, but I couldn't help myself. I was so utterly helpless…

Something occurred to me faintly. Maybe I could try and shove him off me. I had my legs wrapped around his waist already, if I could somehow find the strength to move his massive form before he decided he wanted to flat out rape me again… I sucked in my breath, clenching my fists until my nails dug into my palms and bled. He didn't seem to feel me tense—if anything, he probably enjoyed it, which made me feel even sicker.

God give me hope, I thought, before shifting my legs beneath Ike and pushing with all my strength. The man had not been expecting me to fight back anymore, and it was obvious by the expression on his face as he tumbled off the bed and onto the floor. I heard a loud _smack_, like bone hitting metal, and I prayed that maybe, just maybe, he'd hit his head on the ground and died.

Luck wasn't on my side, though, and I shrunk into the mattress in fright as he scrambled back onto his feet, cursing violently. He grasped the back of his head, his eyes blazing with pure fury. I curled up the best I could, trying to put as much distance between him and myself as possible. He hadn't even been knocked unconscious. He was just going to be furious.

He stooped down, grabbing something off the ground, before stalking over to his duffel bag. He dug around in it for a few moments, before pulling out two strands of rope and…a spoon? He set the spoon and what I realized to be my belt to the side, making headway to the end of the bed, before grabbing my ankles and pulling them as far down as he could. I squeaked as he bound each of my feet to either side of the footboard, effectively rendering me completely immobile.

Ike then snatched the belt off the table, folding it over and snapping it taunt. I barely had time to realize what he was doing before the leather descended, slashing a painful cut across my stomach. I cried out in pain, only to feel the makeshift whip swipe my body again.

"Little…fucking…bitch!" he hissed between strikes, eventually climbing back on top me to get a better aim at my chest. I shrieked every time I felt the stinging bite of the hardened hide, my entire front becoming slick with blood. "How…dare…you…try…and…fight…back! I…will…kill…you!"

"Please!" I screamed. "Stop! I beg of you, stop!" I felt the sharp snap across my arms, and my yells increased, my throat burning from the constant shouts. "I'm s-sorry! Please, stop! Please!"

Suddenly, he cast aside the belt, instead reaching over and fumbling to grasp the spoon. He loomed over me, eyes burning like icy fire, before he grabbed my throat and slammed me down as far as I could into the bed without tearing my limbs right out of their sockets. My breath was ragged and uneven, and it nearly stopped completely when I felt the cold edge of the silverware beneath my right eye. "It's taking everything I have right now to not mutilate your beautiful face," he snarled. "How do you think you'd fare if you had only one eye?"

I was too frightened to even pass out from horror. "P-please…no…" I gasped, squeezing my eyes shut and grabbing the chain binding my wrists again, strangling it to keep myself from losing my mind utterly. "D-don't…" He pressed down harder, and I yelped in pain. "Please, Ike! Don't!" I sobbed. I could feel my tears pooling in the spoon's dip, almost as if it was taunting me for being so weak. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, don't hurt me anymore, please!"

He leaned forward, until he was only an inch from my face, his breath hot and vile. "And why should I stop?" he demanded in a whisper, laced with a lust to hurt something—to hurt me. "Why shouldn't I simply—" He shoved the spoon deeper into my skull, until I could feel it against my eyeball beneath the socket. "—destroy that perfect face of yours and take some of it for myself?"

"I-I'll do anything," I wailed. "I'll do whatever you want, please, just don't… Don't… Please…" I swallowed roughly, half-wondering if he would rape me again, or even ignore my plea and gouge my eye out of its socket. My heart skipped as he pushed the spoon in deeper, my breath catching in my throat and pure terror coursing through me. "Ike, p-please…"

Without warning, Ike pulled away, slipping off of my aching form, walking over to where he had discarded his clothes. I cracked my eye open hesitantly, watching him redress himself, his face finally having lost the ugly expression he had been carrying since he had captured me. I panted, half-expecting him to lunge and inflict more pain, but he simply turned to face me with a dark scowl. "You're a slut," he said coldly. "A dirty whore with a filthy conscious. You can forget about being a virgin, because that's mine. Everything about you is mine." He stepped forward, and I flinched away. "Do you know what you do with gemstones that you've broken?" He didn't wait for my answer. "You throw them away." He grabbed his cloak off the ground and his bag off the table, before turning and exiting the room, closing the door behind him.

I slumped backwards, feeling my face contort as I sobbed. I was already a dead man. I didn't have the energy to escape, the chains were biting into the muscle of my wrists and the ropes into my legs, the door was locked from the outside, and let alone the fact I had just been _fucked_. What would people say when I disappeared? Would they even know where I was? Or…by the time someone cared enough to actually notice, my body?

To think I had ever admired that man, that I had aspired to be as graceful and powerful of a swordsman as him, that had been foolish. A child's dream, a useless hope. And given the chance to tell this same man that I thought his swordplay was so fascinating and that I was going to try and return to the roster in the next calls… No. I hadn't screwed up. He'd just been one of the worst—no, _the _worst—human being to ever walk this planet.

_A dirty whore with a filthy conscious… _How many other people had he broken like this? Captured, raped, and left for dead? And since he was still doing it… He hadn't failed yet. I was positive I was done for. Death just wouldn't come fast enough.

_nex_

I wasn't really sure when I finally slipped into a fitful half-slumber, filled with nightmares of a blue demon ripping me to shreds and calling me beautiful at the same time. I had run out of tears to shed, but I still sobbed emptily, pleading silently for a reprieve from this torture.

The time seemed to wear on, minutes turning to hours to days to years, it felt. The light bulb eventually flickered out and died, and I could only feel jealousy—why couldn't my life end so soon? Why did I have to sit here and suffer because of someone else's insanity? My entire body racked with painful coughs, discharging phlegm from my throat. Blood soaked my body, my collarbone throbbing with a harsh bite he had inflicted upon the flesh. I was covered in bruises and cuts, the chains around my wrists slick with pus and blood. I could see more red than skin on my chest, the normally untouched flesh marred with dark, open wounds.

My whole body ached, threatening to give up on me and let me die. I wanted it to—I willed it to—but it didn't. By some divine prank, I was involuntarily holding on to consciousness, to life, and every second of agony made me hate myself more. I'd given in—I'd offered to do whatever he wanted, to protect myself from a horrible pain I couldn't even imagine. How many other people had he threatened to mutilate so horribly? And how many had been unlucky enough to suffer it?

As the hours passed, I could feel myself slipping… Could feel myself approaching death's door. My throat was drier than a desert, my hands so coated with the sticky crimson that I wondered if I could slip free. Before I had left that room, said my goodbyes to Marth, my only ache had been in my broken finger. I was a fighter, a warrior, a swordsman, and I had taken my fair share of blows, but this…this hurt more than the rest.

All I had wanted to do was to tell him congratulations for taking my place in the tournament.

My body slowly began to shut down, my breath rate slowing, my heart beating only half as fast as it should have. My struggles for freedom had long ceased, my shoulders pulled so awkwardly above my head for so long it didn't even feel like they were attached to my torso anymore. Cold air chilled me to the core, as I was unable to even use my legs to hide beneath a blanket.

I would have never known that a simple meeting could turn out so horribly.

I no longer had the strength to open my eyes, to watch the dark world slowly fade from my vision. I only knew pain—pain spearing every inch of my flesh, like he was still there, still destroying everything about me. _Everything about you is mine…_

Enough that I was wishing—praying—for death's cold embrace.

I just didn't know if it would ever come.

…**.**

**Uh huh.**

**I got it out of my system, yay ;D**

**I left you people in suspense? OH TEH NOES. Well. If this one-shot turns out to be popular enough, I might add a second chapter…**

**EDIT: If I get **_**10**_** reviews asking for a second chapter, I shall write one :3**

**Now to reprimand myself.**

**I've never written anything that has to do with actual sex before. Ever. Let alone yaoi. Let alone a rapefic. Bunch of firsts. I think Roy's thoughts repeated too often. Eh. I was up writing until five a.m., and I added in a bunch of details from the time I woke to now. It might suck, it might become my most popular one-shot, who knows? I just needed to get it out of my system so I can continue work on Memories and Of Wind and Stars and Child of Darkness ;D**

**P.S. Reviews/criticisms are loved, flames are not ;D**

**-Muse**


	2. Chapter 2

"**The hour of departure has arrived and we go our ways; I to die, and you to live. Which is better? Only God knows." –Socrates**

I don't believe in 'speculation'.

After so many years, I just don't. It's hard to. I've been alive for almost 28 years, and even though I've not changed in appearance since nineteen, my mind's continued to mature and evolve. I like to see the reason in all occurrences. Even the magic of my homeland. Or the spell that keeps the Smashers youthful.

But all my reasoning could not explain the deep, painful pit in my stomach earlier when I said goodbye to Roy. Almost like, when he said goodbye… It _was_ goodbye.

_nex_

I went to my room after the party had ended, alone. Ike had said he wasn't feeling well, so I wasn't surprised when he wasn't there. His stomach was always hurting so much. I sometimes wonder if he was as healthy as he always said he was. He was such a good person. He never got mad with me, or did anything wrong. The only person who's said anything bad about him was Snake, but I assumed it was just him being himself. He's such a pervert. Ike really hates him, too. I mildly dislike him, but I don't have the heart to hate. These people are all like me. They've all been through a lot of ugly shit before they came here. Like, Ike for example, had to kill his own god. Ugly shit indeed.

Flopping down on my bed, I sighed deeply. I was already missing Roy—he was my best friend, after all. And I…well, I don't make it obvious, but I still really like him. Even though I know he's straight and doesn't like me the same way. But he could make Ike look like a slobbering idiot any day.

"You're in a rebound relationship," Peach had told me once while trying to tie a bow around her golf club before a match against Ness. "You're only dating him because you're still hurt that Roy rejected you." She then looked up at me with one of her dazzling grins that would melt the heart of any guy…well, any that liked her. "So if you're going to love another man, make sure you put all your heart into it. That's what he would have wanted." …Of course, Peach had a major crush on the little red-head, too, but I'm sure that didn't influence her words.

Someone knocked at my door, and I lazily opened an eye. "Come in," I called. "Door's unlocked."

"Hey." It was Pit. The angel slipped into my room and sat himself down at my desk. I pulled myself up so I was leaning against the headboard, untangling myself of my cape so I could cast it aside on the ground. "I heard Ike was sick so I came to see if he'd come back here yet. I wanted to ask him something about his fighting technique."

Back here yet? "Well, if he's not here, he's probably just in the hospital wing, right?" I replied. Whatever wasn't sitting right in my stomach seemed to throb with pain as Pit shook his head.

"No. I asked…he never checked in." The brunette warrior frowned. "But if he's not here…" He leaned back in the seat, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "…Could he be wandering around the mansion?"

"At this hour?" I swallowed. "Ike wakes up at like, six in the morning. He wouldn't be wandering around at this time, and he hates sleeping in or on anything else than his own bed." That was certainly odd. Where could Ike be? "Maybe he went into the town?"

"At one in the morning?" Pit raised an eyebrow at me. "Please…don't delude yourself. I didn't come here just because I wanted to talk to Ike about Brawling." He leaned forward, pausing to adjust the hem of his tunic, before looking directly at me. "As you know, I'm a friend of Mr. Suspicious-In-My-Physics-Defying-Box, and he's extra suspicious of…well, you know."

Yeah, I knew, and I wasn't liking it. "Snake's crazy," I said. "He'd believe a milk jug has deadly poison in it if you presented the possibility. He doesn't buy his own food for a stupid reason, you know." Of course, Snake was some sort of rogue spy or something, and probably had plenty of enemies, but still… "What's there to suspect about Ike?"

Pit paused, and then turned away slightly. "…You would get mad if I told you. You're too emotional about him. You'd just throw something at me and boot me out of your room. You're a veteran, but you need to grow up sometime, you know."

Was that even worth a response? I crossed my arms and gave him my best death glare. Which, I'm told, can be pretty scary. I've had plenty of practice, after all. I _am_ the heir to the throne of my homeland, Aritia, after all. Or, I would be if I wasn't a Smasher. I'd given the throne to my sister, now the Queen, Ellis. But I still knew how to deal in the world of politics, and there, an angry glare always serves well.

All I got in response was another shake of the head and a glare back. "…Marth… You're immature. I know what you've been through, but I'm serious, if you can't grow up a little, I can't tell you."

Oh, snap. Owned by the kid angel. I slumped back in defeat. …I was curious, admittedly. "…Alright. I promise to not over-react and boot your skinny ass out of my room if I get mad. Can you please tell me?" He hesitated, and I pressed further. "Isn't the best way to keep a man ignorant is to never tell him what he needs to know?"

That did it. Pit stood, brushed himself off, and leaned against the wall. "…You've heard about the kidnapper, right? The one who's been taking teenage guys?" I nodded. Who hadn't? "Well, Snake's been researching it, and…he found something interesting."

"Oh?" I leaned forward, pulling my knees to my chest so I would better balance myself. "What did he find?" …Cue the bad feeling in my gut again.

The angel touched his forehead slightly, eyes closed and his other arm crossed over his stomach. "He found that every time a person disappeared…it's happened the same times Ike's claimed to be sick."

Uhm. I stared blankly at him for a moment, trying to grasp what he was saying. Then, "Wait a second; he couldn't know that if there was a hospital record… So Ike was sick! Don't start accusing him, he wouldn't be allowed into the Smasher society if he was a criminal! You _know _Master Hand does background checks!"

Pit's shoulders heaved from relief. "…Thanks, Marth. I honestly have been doubting Snake's claim myself. Ike's kind of distant, but he's not…a bad guy. Well, not an evil bad one. In a speaking sense. You know." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I just kind of wanted to confirm Snake was wrong, you know, and no one better to ask than the man himself, or his wo—er, I mean, partner."

I laughed slightly, though it sounded rather forced to myself. "Well, I appreciate you being honest, Pit. I'd do anything to help Ike; after all, I love him." I sat back, crossing my arms behind my head and leaning the top of my head against the wall.

"That's not what I hear." Pit smirked in a secretive, knowing way that made my heart skip a beat in nervousness. "I hear you're just dating him because _he_ was booted."

I couldn't stop the blood from rushing to my face. "He? Who's he? There are a lot of 'he's here in the mansion," I said quickly, sitting up so fast my back cracked slightly. "And everyone who was booted was a guy, too—"

"Don't play stupid," Pit interrupted. "You know exactly who I'm talking about. '_Waga kinshou niiro kashira_', as you used to say. I looked it up a while back." He grinned fully. "Who's this red-head you're talking about?"

"Uuuuuuuh…" I replied intelligently. "…Bowser?"

"Don't make me laugh." He laughed. "I saw the way you were acting, Marfykins. When that red-head was here…you were much happier than normal. You found everything he said fascinating…you couldn't take your eyes off him." He shook his head again, chuckling to himself. "People aren't dumb, _waga kinshou koushaku_. We know you love him. Like, even more than Falcon loves Samus. Which is a lot." He stepped forward, and patted me on the shoulder. "You don't need to force yourself to love anyone because he's not here, ya know."

Without another word, he left the room, yawning as he flicked the light switch and shut the door. "…That's what everyone says," I muttered to myself, kicking my shoes off my feet and slipping under the covers of my bed. I was tired, and I needed to sleep… "…They all say that I'm only with Ike…because I still love Roy. …Am I…so easy to see through?"

_nex_

"Rise and shine, dahling, there's a new day awaiting us!"

I rolled over, groaning as the window shades were pulled open, letting in the sun. My eyes took a moment to adjust, and the first thing I did was look at the clock. 7:40. A little earlier than I would have liked. The light was blocked, though, as a large figure stepped in front of my bed, peering down at me with a bright smile. "Come on, wake up! I'm in a really good mood today, so don't spoil it!"

"Ike…" I moaned. "…I'm tired, can't I sleep for a little longer?" I tried to turn away, but he grabbed me by my waist and dragged me right from the bed, turning me in his arms so I was being held bridal-style. I blinked sleepily at him, trying to figure out just why he was so darned happy.

"Oh, grow up Marth," he said, nuzzling his nose into my hair. "You'd not be so tired if you didn't stay up late, I guarantee you. So up and at it, alright?" He sat back down on the bed, freeing an arm to fiddle with my sleeves and collar, straightening them out so I looked somewhat presentable to the world. "Don't fall asleep on me!"

I smiled at his fussing, eventually regaining enough energy to brush him away and sit up in his lap. "Alright, alright, I won't. Though, I wouldn't mind falling asleep like this…" I rested my head against his shoulder, letting the sound of his breathing overtake everything else. Or, I wanted it to, though I couldn't help but notice a small splotch of red at his neck, half-hidden by his tunic collar.

Before I could get a good look, though, he shifted, and pushed me out of his lap, forcing me to stand. "Yes, but then I couldn't take you anywhere," he replied, looking as innocent as a six-foot muscle head could look. "Not that I can today. I actually woke you up because I have to go home for a few days."

"What?" I gasped. "But…Ike…what's going on there?"

"Nothing too important," the large bluenette replied. "Just some border disputes they want my help with." He pulled me into a tight hug, pinning my arms to my side and crossing his legs around mine, preventing escape—not that I would try to. "I'll be back Wednesday morning, promise." He nuzzled his nose against my forehead, bringing a blush to my cheeks, then kissed me swiftly. "Well, I've got to go soon. I love you, my little prince, stay out of trouble for me." He spun around, sitting me on the bed, then sweeping out of the room dramatically.

…If he was going home, why was he so…happy? It didn't make much sense, but my heart was pounding too hard in my ears for me to think properly. I always felt giddy and fuzzy whenever he touched me, but…I always found myself wishing he was a little smaller. Okay, a lot smaller. Like… my little _niiro kashira_.

_nex_

As I sat down to eat my lunch two days later—consisting of a muffin and banana—someone jumped up next to me. I glanced down to see Lucas, who was munching on a sandwich. "Afternoon," I said to the young psychic.

"Hi!" he replied between mouthfuls. "Ness is eating with Fox so I decided to sit here. You looked lonely." He turned in his seat to watch my expression. "…You look sad, too. What's wrong? Was Ikey a poo-head again? Ness says Ike's mean."

I smiled, reaching over and patting Lucas on the head. "Nah, I'm just tired. Ike had to go home for a few days, and so I've been wasting my time being a stupid adult. Parties don't end for a couple days at this age, you know."

"Oh! Yeah!" Lucas covered his mouth with a hand in surprise. "I almost forgot!" He hunched over, digging into his pockets for a moment. "I had it…aha! Here!" He straightened, and held out his small clenched fist. A key ring dangled from his fingers, the keys clinging together like a crude wind chime. "I found this in one of the hallways, and I was going to show it to everyone until—"

My muffin fell to the table top as it slipped from my hand, cutting the psychic off. My heart beating unusually hard against my sternum, I snatched the keys from Lucas and flipped through them, until I found…

"I saw that, too," Lucas babbled. "It's a pretty charm, don't you think? Dragons are kind of cool…scary, but cool." I wasn't really listening to him, though. I was staring at the small dragon charm hanging off the ring—and the tiny red splatter across its sterling body.

"Lucas…I know whose keys these are," I said quietly, standing from the table. "Thanks for showing them to me, I'll return them to their owner as soon as possible, alright?" He nodded cheerfully, completely oblivious to the fact there was something very wrong with this.

After all, the only person I knew to have a dragon on their keychain was Roy.

_nex_

"What do you mean Roy's still here?" Pit demanded, pulling the ice pack off his forehead at last. I didn't get hangovers, but the angel always regretted drinking. Until the next party.

I fidgeted uncomfortably. The purple living room, also known as the Purple Lounge, was deserted save us two, sitting apposing one another on the large and ugly but comfy couches. "I mean what I say. Lucas found Roy's keys, and I went and checked for myself; his car's still here."

"Master Hand would know if Roy stayed," Pit insisted. "And from what I heard, he's too damn gracious to do something like this."

"Then why hasn't he left?" I demanded. I wanted to believe Pit—Roy wouldn't do that—but how could I know, I'd fallen out of contact with him over the last year. What if he had holed up in here?

"You know who we should talk to," Pit was saying. "Snake."

I froze. "Absolutely not! I don't want anything to do with him! I'd rather talk to someone whose friends with Roy, like Falcon or Link."

"Trust me, Marth," Pit said, sitting up straight and fluttering his wings slightly. "If there was anyone more skilled in espionage than the old man, I'd ask him first. If you want to bring Falcon and Link into this, so be it. I don't know Roy; I'm only giving you my opinion." He sat back, setting the ice pack onto his temple again.

I swallowed. I really did not want to trust Snake with _anything_, but Pit had a point: the man knew his stuff. And the sick feeling in my gut was still there. Something just seemed really wrong with all of this. Roy wouldn't do this. He wouldn't have tried to hole up in the mansion. Roy wouldn't.

Pit glanced at me with an expression that seemed to mirror my concern, even if I knew it was a different breed of the emotion. "Alright," I said, feeling deflated. "Can you get Snake? I want to get Link and Falcon… We can meet here in five."

The angel sat up immediately. "Marth, you don't—"

"Yes, I do," I replied, standing up to tower over the archer. "If something's happened…I… I won't be the one to let something bad happen to Roy. If he's hiding, then I'll boot his ass to Iceland. If he's not, then we can find him and I can put my mind to rest."

Pit nodded slowly. "Alright. Five minutes." He stood, and pushed out of the room, with me on his heels.

I wouldn't let _anything_ happen to my best friend.

_nex_

I'd found Falcon and Link easily enough; they had been watching a match between Ganondorf and Wolf. It taken me even less time to drag both of them to the Lounge, and await Pit and Snake. They kept asking me questions that I wasn't hearing. I only wanted to explain myself once, if absolutely necessary. I paced, wondering angrily what was taking so long.

And then there they were, Pit and Snake, the latter quickly taking a lounge chair and opening an elaborate laptop on his lap. Pit waved a hand at me, telling me to stop pacing and sit down, which I did immediately.

The angel turned to face the gathered, and quickly launched into an explanation. "Roy's missing," he said. "Lucas found his car keys this morning, and his car is still here, but there's no sign of him in the mansion." He glanced at Snake. "This could be considered a security issue, but I'm certain you're more interested in his safety than whatever rules he might be breaking."

"I'm not," Snake said.

I replied only with a scathing glare.

"Shut up, box-man," Falcon snapped. "If you weren't as good as you are with technology…"

"If what?" Snake shot back. "Fucking bounty hunter… Well, if you're even semi-intelligent, then maybe you'll shut your face and let _me_ speak."

"No one was asking you," Pit sighed to himself, crossing his arms and setting his weight on his right leg. "But go ahead."

Snake 'hmph'ed. "I already ran a sweep. No unauthorized personal in the mansion. Just a car. But nobody cares about that, I'm sure. So your little friend isn't here. Does that help?"

I slumped in my seat. At the very least, Roy wasn't here… But that meant he'd left without his keys or car. Which somehow seemed a lot worse. "Can you test the blood?" I asked. "I'm sure Roy's DNA is still in the system…"

"Yeah, I can do that," Snake said. "Doesn't mean I will, but I can." About four seconds later, he peeled Roy's keys off his forehead, glaring at Pit as the angel scowled back, then leaning over his computer again.

"Nice throw," Falcon said to Pit, who just shrugged.

A few minutes passed in silence, as Snake pulled tools off his belt and plugged them into his laptop, typing and testing and grumbling. I curled my legs up to my chest, wrapping my arms around my knees, holding my breath anxiously.

"So…" Link spoke for the first time, his voice so quiet one had to strain to hear it. Which was depressing, in a way, because it sounded kind of like wind chimes. "You've…heard about the kidnapper…?"

Pit nodded, shooting a glance at me. "Yeah. Some bastard's been kidnapping teenage boys. They're not to be seen again… Well, actually, they've been finding little things by the doors of the missing boys' homes… Shirts, pants, fingers, eyeballs… No other DNA, though…"

"Stop it," I moaned, resting my forehead on my knees. I didn't want to hear about it. Not now, especially.

"Oh…I'm sorry," Link whispered, settling back into his seat and retreating into himself.

"Got it," Snake said, suddenly. All eyes turned towards the older man. "It's Roy's blood, alright, but it's not fresh." He poked a key on his comp. "I'm going to check the surveillance video from the reunion night… I can date the blood to the minute, so I should…" He trailed off, his fingers flying across the keyboard. After a few seconds, his hands fell still, and there was a moment of silence, before some of the annoyance drained from his face. "Oh…"

"Oh?" Falcon demanded.

"This doesn't look very good for your friend," Snake said grimly, turning the laptop around so we could see the video that was cycling on the screen.

It was only about twenty seconds long, but it seemed to last forever. There was Roy, walking down a hallway, twirling his keys and looking rather pleased. And then, as if from no where, there was a person in a cloak, like a shadow. They had a block of wood in their hands, and they had no hesitation in swinging the stick around, smashing it into the back of his head. I jumped, covering my mouth with my hands as Roy fell, dropping his keys. The person scooped Roy up like he was a doll; blood dripped from the wound on Roy's head, a couple drops covering the keys and the rest lost in the carpet, and then the shadowy person was gone, red-head in tow.

It recycled the video again and again, until Pit stepped forward and turned the computer back towards Snake.

"What the HELL?" Falcon exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table. "Someone was in the mansion that night! And they got Roy!"

"There were no unauthorized personal in the mansion that night…" Snake said softly, sounding a lot more somber than before. "The only way someone could have gotten away with this was if…"

"…If they were one of the Smashers," I finished, suddenly unsure if I could keep my lunch down. "Snake, is there a way to get out of the mansion without being detected?" I asked frantically.

The man nodded. "Yeah, if you've done enough exploring."

"Shit!" I punched a vase. The silk flowers and glass rocks went scattering across the floor, and I barely noticed the glass that cut into my fingers, stinging like flame. "Roy's been kidnapped! What if…" I blanched. I didn't need to finish. My message got to the others rather quickly.

"We can't do anything about this today," Snake said, closing his laptop. "I'm going to conduct some research about this tonight. Tomorrow, we'll meet here again and take action."

"What?" I cried, spinning on the older man. "Wait until tomorrow? It's been almost three days! What if something's happened to Roy? What if he's…" I trailed off, choking on my own words. "I'm going to go find him," I said. Before I could see the looks of surprise, I turned to storm out of the room. I almost got out, too.

"Hey!" Snake shouted, lunging forward and grabbing my arm in a painful lock. "No way are you going out there, not with the kidnapper. Wait until we have more information, you stupid teenager."

"Let me go!" I demanded, fighting to get out of his grip. My pleas went ignored.

"Falcon," Snake said, turning to the bounty hunter. "You and Link take Marth to his room, and keep him in there. Don't let him do anything stupid."

"Y-yessir…" Falcon mumbled, still in shock, taking my arm away from Snake. With Link's help, he managed to drag me down the hall, though I was yelling and fighting the whole way. I had to help Roy. I had to. He was in trouble and I had to find him.

I didn't even realize I was in my room until Falcon and Link sat me in a chair and ran before I could get up, closing the door and locking it from the outside. "HEY!" I screamed, jumping at the only exit and pounding on the wood. "LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!"

"Sorry, Marth," Falcon said, sounding sad. _You stupid fucker! _I thought furiously, backing away from the door. _What if Roy dies and it's your fault? _I slammed my hand on the door one last time, then gave up, storming away and sitting furiously on my bed.

This wasn't fair. Roy needed my help. Who else would care? I literally tore my pillow half in frustration, sending feathers spiraling pitifully to the ground. I hunched down and fumed, staring at the remains for a very long time. At least, I think it was long, because when I looked up again, it was almost eleven in the evening. I hadn't eaten dinner, but I wasn't hungry.

The moon was full, and casting light through my window, turning the carpet silver. I stood, angrily stripping my tunic off and pulling on jeans and a skin-tight white t-shirt, casting my tiara aside. I knew I should have never trusted Snake. He had made it impossible to help my friend. What if he was already dead?

I glanced out, watching the stars flicker happily next to the moon. Roy was out there somewhere. I had to find him.

And then it clicked.

The window!

I was two floors up, but I always kept random things in my room. Like rope. It was very easy to kick the pane of glass out, catch it before it fell, and dangle an anchored rope over the sill and into the fancy bushes below. Strapping a dagger to my belt and throwing a jacket on, I scrambled out of my room and to the ground, cursing Snake and Falcon and Link in my head. I would return victorious with Roy in hand, and be the hero.

Little did I know.

Oh, how little did I know.

_nex_

The first problem was tracking the little guy down. I couldn't hunt forever. I crawled over the gate to the mansion and wandered into town, peeking into closed shops and strolling empty streets carefully. Any evidence by now would be cold, I thought grimly. _I'll never find him._

If I hadn't decided to kick over the nearby garbage can, I never would have noticed the wallet on the ground. But I did, and I saw it, so ignoring the pain in my foot, I snatched it up and looked for an ID. And just about had a heart attack.

It was Roy's wallet.

He was smiling at me from his driver's license, as innocent and handsome as ever. There was no money or credit cards, but there were pictures. A beautiful estate, a blue-haired girl who appeared to be a few years younger than me, a middle-aged man who looked shockingly like Roy but with a much more regal air.

I glanced up, looking down the alleyway where I'd found the wallet. On the other side, I could see, were a bunch of warehouses. They looked old and abandoned… The perfect place to take a kidnapped child! I stuffed the wallet in my pocket and rushed forward, eager and nervous at the same time. Was Roy there? How would I know which one he could be trapped in?

It turned out the latter question was easy to answer. The third warehouse I walked by, the door to the inside was covered with blood. And suddenly I wasn't so eager. The door was unlocked, but it took me a rather long time to venture forth and open it, wincing as it creaked.

It was empty inside, except for a few rotted boxes. There were steel doors along one wall, all locked from the outside by dead-bolts. It smelled awfully pungent inside, though I could not identify the odor. Slowly, cautiously, I moved to the first door, unlocking it and pulling it open.

I don't know how I managed to survive the shock of what I saw.

There was a bed and a nightstand, set up carelessly in the small room. Bound roughly to the bed, stripped naked, was a half-rotted body, one eye completely missing from its socket. The flesh was green and black, seeped in dark brown, its face still shaped in a horrifying screech of pain.

I reeled backwards, overwhelmed, and slammed the door shut, doubling over and losing what fluids I had in my stomach. That explained the source of the smell.

Then it really hit me what I'd just seen.

And in a way, it really did, because someone punched me in the face right as I made to stand up. I didn't even get a chance to cry out before I fell down, out cold.

When I awoke, I found myself sitting on the ground, my head slumped forward painfully. My temple throbbed, but I sat up, wincing as my headache pounded. I appeared to be tied to a metal beam in the center of the warehouse, my hands bound roughly behind it. There was no one in sight, but a light overhead had been switched on, filling the steel building with a dim, white glow. The boxes cast shadows across the walls, darkness that seemed to flicker as wind seeped through a crack and shifted the hanging light.

Something soft hit the floor behind me, and I stiffened, holding my breath. I heard the noise again, and again, and by the time I realized it was footsteps the cloaked person from the surveillance video was standing in front of me.

I could not see their face, but from the stature I could tell it was a man. He was tall, about six-three, and broadly built. His cloak brushed the floor, concealing most of his body, except for his feet, which were clad in dark leather boots. From the depths of the hood I could almost see a pair of eyes, glistening darkly in the dim light.

I'd seen some terrifying things in my previous life, when I'd defended my own homeland, but I had never been more afraid than now, as this man towered over me.

"So you're the little sneak who poked your face into my adobe," he said icily, his voice deep and gruff. There was a certain fakeness about it, something I noted but didn't really take note of, if you know what I mean. "Did you like what you found?"

I swallowed nervously. "Where's Roy?" I demanded hoarsely, doing my best to not think about the rotted body I'd found earlier. He tilted his head to the side, as if I was speaking a different language, and I lost it. "Don't play stupid! Where's Roy?"

I didn't see the kick coming, so it just about knocked me right back out when it connected with my face. "Stupid!" he snapped. "Call me stupid, will you? I'm stupid? You're the idiot who wandered in here!" He grabbed my shirt, and shoved me against the pipe, pinning my neck to the cold metal. "You've been a thorn in my side for too long. I suppose it was only a matter of time before you found this place… Especially since I took that little red-head."

My heart skipped. He did have Roy! The joy seeped away just as quickly, though. That didn't mean my best friend was still alive. "What have you done to him?" I gasped.

The man stood, releasing his grip on my collarbone, and put his foot through the beam. The roof creaked slightly as some of the support was lost, raining flakes of old, brittle metal over my face. The man jerked me onto my feet, pulling a knife from nowhere and holding it dangerously at my shoulder. "You wanna see what I've done?" he hissed. "You really want to see?"

Suddenly I wasn't so sure I wanted to see what had befallen Roy. I didn't get a choice in the matter, though, as he pushed me towards one of the doors towards the end of the warehouse. Walking seemed automatic, like my brain was functioning without my permission. I was used to being at sword point—oh god, was I used to it. But it had never been so terrifying. I had never been so sure that the next step would be my last, that the last thing I would see would be my own blood across the floor.

What had I gotten myself into?

He stopped in front of the door, gripping my arm with one hand and unlocking the deadbolt with the other. Its click was like thunder, quiet and dangerous. Like it was about to decide your fate. I found myself unable to breath. I didn't want to see what was behind the door, but a part of me was unable to look away. And so I could only watch as he pushed the heavy door open.

I've seen some pretty disgusting things. Including the body I'd found just earlier. I knew what blood looked like and smelled like and tasted like. Carnage was nothing new to me. I was the killer of hundreds, when I had once been fighting for my own country's liberation. When I joined the Smashers and chose to stop growing older, I was sure I wouldn't ever have to see bloodshed on the scale of a war again. Smash battles were bloody gore fests, but at least there were rules, time-outs, doctors right off stage to heal whatever injuries you've sustained. But it was all in good fun. You see someone's intestines spilling on the dirt, you laugh with them as they get patched up in seconds, you walk off stage and get a drink and watch pre-recorded TV shows about idiots doing idiotic things with other idiots. It was not bloodshed. It was just an exceptionally violent game.

Nothing compared to what I saw.

There was a bed and nightstand in this room as well, set up even more hastily than the first room. Fabric and blood was scattered across the floor, and the light inside was dead. But that did not prevent me from seeing what I saw.

Bound roughly to the bed, stripped and soaked in blood, was Roy.

His arms were still glistening red from deep cuts on his wrists, his chest and stomach covered with dark, gaping wounds that were too deep to close on their own. His face was heavily bruised and hollowed, and there was a deep welt under his right eye. I can't even describe what else I might have seen.

I was too focused on the fact that his chest, though weakly, was still rising and falling.

"He's still alive?" the man said, sounding rather surprised himself. "I swear, that kid is such a nuisance…" He pulled me roughly into the room, shoving me into a corner and slamming the door shut behind him. "What do you think of my work?" he asked, now sounding rather pleased.

"Y-your work?" I rasped weakly, leaning into the wall so I wouldn't faint. I was so sick I didn't even feel human anymore. "How…how could you _do_ this to someone?"

The man shrugged. "Like this." He flicked the knife in his fingers and stepped up to the bedside. I think I realized what was about to happen, but it didn't register fast enough, and I was helplessly silent as the man brought the knife across Roy's throat.

I saw the dark red liquid seep across his chest, his breathing jerk to a halt. I saw the man turn on me, his bloody knife pointed right at me. He said something that I didn't hear, pulled his hood off with a dark grin. He began to advance towards me, his familiar face moving with speech but my senses dulled.

I was going to forever regret this. Roy had been alive. But now his face was blank and empty with death. He hadn't felt the knife, he hadn't died conscious. But I could not imagine the pain he had been in before he had finally fallen into whatever coma I had found him in. My best friend was dead. Roy was dead. And I had helplessly watched him die.

The man was approaching, and I was still not registering what I was seeing. Roy was dead. Roy was dead. Roy was dead. The man, with his luscious blue hair and stony blue eyes, was almost in my face, but Roy was dead.

I felt the man's breath on my face, and it finally registered with my brain who I was looking at. Who had a knife at my chest. Who had killed Roy.

And that's when I screamed.

_nex_

I was so annoyed. Snake's 'research' had been proving fruitless, and he'd found every reason to blame everything but himself and his stupid technology. I didn't know this Roy person very well at all, but the idea that someone I did know was possibly in a lot of danger irritated and terrified me.

Then Falcon had come in, frantic. It'd taken a moment to understand what he'd said, but when I did, I felt my heart sink. Marth was missing. Gone. He'd kicked his window out and left.

So here we were, me, Falcon, Link and Snake, hunting the streets of the city, looking for the thin bluenette. It was almost one in the morning, and I was exhausted. There was no way we would find him. No way. If the idiot wanted to get killed, then that was his choice.

We were passing the old, abandoned warehouses on the southern edge of town as I considered turning around and calling it a night. And that's when Link stopped.

"Wait," he said. "…I just heard something."

"What?" Snake asked, turning around, wide awake as ever. Did the man ever sleep?

"It sounded like…a scream," Link said softly. I hadn't heard anything, but then again, Link was Hylian. His hearing was better than all of ours. "It came from over there."

He pointed over a tipped garbage can and down an alley, to the huge, cold steel structures. "In there?" Falcon repeated. "That doesn't sit well…"

"Stupid stereotyping," I said, swallowing roughly. Nothing could creep a person out like a faint scream near a prime horror story location. "Check it out?"

"Suddenly not so tired, eh, Angel?" Snake snipped, leading the way down the alley, as if he had known what I had been ready to start complaining about. _Stupid fuck_, I thought, leaping lightly over the garbage can with a flutter of my wings and following Snake.

Link shuttered audibly from behind me. "Shouldn't we call the police?" he asked with that quiet voice of his. "W-we're prime targets for that kidnapper… Or any evildoers…"

"Bullshit," I snapped, irritable from fear, "No kidnapper would touch Falcon or Snake. Too old." Snake elbowed me in the stomach, and Falcon caught me before I stumbled into him.

"No kidnapper would bother me because I'm too manly," Falcon said half-heartedly, as if trying to light an eternally dreary truth. I shrugged, doing a weird skip/ballet step thing to catch up with Snake, even though the old man appeared to be pissed at me. Which he always was.

"The police…?" Link asked again, even more quietly.

Snake threw out an arm suddenly, stopping in his tracks, and I ran right into him. "…Don't go any closer," he ordered, suddenly not sounding pissed at us. He almost sounded…afraid. He pulled a phone off his belt and tossed it to Link. "Call them. Call them and tell them to come immediately. We're going to wait until they arrive."

It took a moment for me to figure out what had made Snake so cautious so suddenly, but then I saw it: A door, painted a deep maroon by what looked eerily like dried blood. However, there were patches of bright crimson, shinning in the moonlight, so fresh they might have just appeared from nowhere in front of our eyes.

I wasn't angry at Marth for being a dumb prick anymore. The emotion had been replaced by absolute terror. What if we were too late? What if Marth was dead…?

We stood motionless, until there was the blare of sirens and Link returned, followed by the city police. They were in action instantly, gathering around the bloodstained door and demanding for us to tell them what we knew, which quickly turned out to be basically nothing.

One large, dark-skinned man who had the rankings of a police captain on his chest kicked in the door, and the force charged in. It all seemed like a blur to me. What would they find? I wanted to know. I wanted to know so badly… Snake seemed to sense this, and got a firm grip on my arm, to ensure I didn't run off and do anything stupid. I heard no gunfire, no talking, no nothing, and somehow that was even more terrifying.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the dark-skinned captain emerged, hat of his head, looking solemn. He approached us slowly but deliberately, with the air of one who was bearing bad news. Now I didn't want to know. I didn't want to… Suddenly, the possibility of us being too late seemed imminent. _No…please, no…_

"You're the friends of the missing Smashers, yes?" he asked quietly as he reached us. "I'm so sorry… They're dead. We found the red-head. He sustained multiple flesh wounds and appeared to have been assaulted in multiple ways… But it looks like his time of actual death was recent." He bowed his head.

"H-how…?" Falcon gasped, seeming to not have really grasped the horror of it.

"Slit jugular," the police captain said. "There was still blood flowing from the wound."

No way. No way. We had been too late. Just too late. _So close…and now…_ I felt the emotion welling up in my chest, and it seemed impossible to fight back. We'd almost gotten to Roy. And now he was dead.

"What about Marth?" Snake asked, his voice quiet, yet seething with danger.

"Dead." The police captain looked right at Snake. "He was in the same room as the red-head… Killed by multiple stab wounds." His voice cracked. "He probably died just a few minutes ago, just after the red-head." He sounded bitter and remorseful, and looked back down to the ground. "We found numerous, older bodies, but no living people. The killer must have murdered the blue-haired boy and fled.

The scream. The scream Link had heard… I glanced at him. The Hylian had collapsed into a seated position, a look of absolute horror and pain on his ashen face. He was silent, but I could see the tears brimming at the corner of his sapphire-blue eyes. Falcon had buried his hands into his forehead, shaking violently with absolute fury. Even Snake was quiet, looking down mournfully at the concrete.

My own knees hit the pavement, scrapping the skin off them and sending a flash of pain up my legs, but I did not notice. I clenched my hands until blood dripped from where my nails dug into my palm, and my wings were curled so tightly against my back they ached.

They were dead. Marth and Roy… We'd been mere feet from them and while we had argued, they were being murdered. And their killer had gotten away with it. We hadn't acted fast enough. Marth and Roy were dead, and it was our fault for letting their murderer escape.

I lurched forward, caught myself with my crimson hands, and roared in frustration and grief, tears splattering the ground below.

We were too late.

_nex_

Ah, the sound of screams.

I shifted my position from atop my hideout, the neighboring warehouse to the one where so many had been mutilated and murdered. I'd panicked when I'd seen those annoying Smashers approach, but they'd stopped, giving me time to escape. I was still high from the thrill of the kill, and I probably wouldn't have been able to stop the four if they'd exploded in at such an inappropriate time.

My hands still smelled like blood, but that was probably because they were still drenched in it. In fact, my entire front was soaked with Marth's blood. He'd tried to run at the last second, when he'd finally figured out who I was, so my knife caught him in the shoulder instead of the throat. Blood got everywhere, and it pissed me off. I did not want that pathetic creature's fluids on my cloak. So I'd made his death painful, and stabbed him until I could see his ribs and lungs, deflated from multiple punctures, and his heart, beating faintly until I drove the blade through it and twisted until it snapped away from the aorta and vena cava. It was _so_ satisfying to be rid of him.

Marth had been nothing more than a blot on my perfection. Someone like me did not need something as imperfect as him. He had baggage, he was clingy and needy and whiny. I knew he didn't really love me, but he tried desperately to convince himself he did. I played along, though every time he curled next to me and I felt his thin body against mine it took every ounce of willpower not to strangle him.

Now, Roy… He was a different story. Such beauty, such perfection. He was untouched, unmarked. I couldn't help myself when I saw people like that. I wanted that so badly. I wanted to take everything they had and turn it into my own pleasure. It angered me to see people so naturally unflawed… And it thrilled me to rip it all away. I'd done it multiple times. The poor ladies were having to settle more and more for normal boys. Those poor little rats. I can't stand women. Which is why I can't stand Marth.

Or, I couldn't stand Marth. Now he was gone. Part of me was sad: sad I could not have tied him down and cut him apart, slowly and deliberately. He was not perfect, so I wouldn't have done what I had done to Roy. He was the kind of creature who just deserved to be torn into tiny bits, slowly and methodically. One tiny slice at a time. What did a finger or toe or ear matter? And once his legs and arms and facial features were gone, I would have started on the torso, first the useless organs, then vital, slowly working my way to his heart and lungs…

Depressing he'd had to die so quickly. At least I had enjoyed being rid of him.

Pit's scream had tapered off long ago, but I could still hear the echo in my head. What a bother. If it hadn't been for Marth's sudden appearance in this graveyard of buildings, I might have gone after some of the other Smashers. I couldn't stand Pit, so I'd just cut his wings off and throw him into a lake with a big block of concrete. Link… He was nice enough. I'd actually been hungering for blood for quite a while, and Link had started to look appetizing before Roy strolled in.

Now I would have to leave and haunt another town of beautiful people. But I wasn't too upset. I was tired of this city, of the Smash games, and of the nuisance that had once been Marth.

It would be easy enough. I'd move away under a façade of depression at my beloved death. I snorted as I thought about that. Marth, my beloved? But really, I would lay low for a bit, pick some targets, and begin anew. I was good enough at this serial killer thing now that I would be fine. There were so many endless possibilities of where I could go.

I stood up, stretching. The police were beginning their investigation, helping the other Smashers leave the scene, to mourn in peace, pondering over where the psycho maniac killer could have gone. I almost laughed aloud. It was only amusing to me. There was no guilt in this work. I could only regret not having been able to make Marth's death more painful than anything he could have ever imagined. But he was gone for good now. They were all gone.

Roy had tried to slip back into a life where he didn't belong anymore.

Marth had tried to find stability in a world he himself tore apart.

They had, in their own ways, asked for forgiveness. But I did not forgive imperfection.

I pulled my bloodied cloak hood over my head, and walked away from the crime scene.

They would always be unforgiven.

**Eleven months and six days have passed since I first posted Unforgiven… My life has been on a rollercoaster like nothing else. But it is done. The ending to Unforgiven is done. **

**I hope you people understand I will never be able to write like I did in the first chapter again. I was basically high on a lack of sleep and never before or since have I had such a strong, dire muse to write. But what is written here has been planned since I wrote the first chapter. You can actually tell where I've worked on it on different times, when the writing style changes. I wrote the first part early on, soon after Unforgiven was posted, but it died off until a few months ago.**

**I don't expect you people to love me after reading this. Not in the least. But it is a harsh reality that many stories do not have. Forgive me… Well, really, just don't flame. Complain maturely if you must. **

**This is the reality of the world of the Unforgiven.**

**the Moose.**


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